


Darkon Begins

by photonromance



Series: Darkon Series [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Brothels, Forced Prostitution, Graphic Description, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2428319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/photonromance/pseuds/photonromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After earning his life in the Gladiator pit, Megatron sets out to start a business of his own in the slums of Cybertron. While out recruiting for his burlesque club come brothel, he comes across a little mech that will turn what he once considered a spark of ice and stone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkon Begins

**Author's Note:**

> An origin story to a small universe I toy with from time to time. In this, Megatron own a club called Darkon and recruits mecha from across Cybertron, creatures bruised by their lives and unafraid of the work. If you don't mind the read, a full summary of the 'verse is in the end notes. Your comments are most welcome.

 

 

            Megatron stood outside a local brothel, thinking. The streets were dark already, and most of the traffic had already dissipated, so he had little company on the sidewalk just before the front steps.  _Soon,_  he thought to himself,  _I will be done scouting whorehouses. We will be ready to open._  A cold wind blew past him, chilling his circuits.  _Until then, here we go._  He made his way up few stone steps and sent a data burst request for entry.

           It was a gilded brothel, every surface covered in soft, damask fabrics and lined with precious metals. Standing in the main entryway, Megatron put away his cloak like covering in side closet before continuing to the parlors. Every smaller parlor was scattered with large, comfortable chairs and lounges. Everywhere, mechs and femmes lay about and talked, drank high grade, and smoked from crystal containers of glowing materials. A smoky fog hung in the air.

            “What are you looking for, sir?” The question came from a green mech standing at Megatron’s elbow. Just a slender little thing, with large amber optics that looked up a him with a most appealing expression.

            “Nothing yet, but thank you.” Megatron murmured, turning to gaze across the parlors, “I will be sure you let you know.” The mech bowed, turning to asking femme behind him the same question. The massive silver mech wandered the smoky rooms for some time, declining offers of high grade and various stimulants all the while. It wasn’t until he finally settled on a lounge near an ornately draped the window that he was approached again.

            Breakneck was a mech with a good eye for other bot’s tastes. Watching the big silver mech roam the parlors with the grace and air of a cyberwolf, he was sure in an instant what this mech was looking for. He had avoided all the most obvious courtesans, and even the less obvious, but more attractive, employees, choosing to take a seat in an isolated corner where he could watch everything from afar. Yes, Breakneck was sure he knew what this patron wanted.

            “Is there nothing here that catches your attention, sir?” The powerful, navy colored mech asked as he strode up to the seated patron. He drew a chair from nearby and took a seat. “We have much to offer, more than is present, even here.”

            Megatron looked to the mech, but turned back to the room shortly, finding nothing impressive about him.

            “My name is Breakneck, I own this establishment.” He clarified, a little irritated that he was being ignored.

            “You have a fine selection, Breakneck. Nothing has caught my optic just yet, however.” Megatron responded, not bothering to look back.

            “Then perhaps you have not laid your optics on the finest of our selection.” Breakneck suggested, satisfied to have his patron’s attention.

            “Then I might inquire as to where you keep your finest, if not in your parlors for your patrons to see themselves.” Megatron asked, turning now, in his lounge, to face his host.

            “Why, in the cellars, sir, where anymech might keep things he wants to preserve for a select and discerning few.” Breakneck smiled in a cruel and blinding way, “And I assure, if you don’t like

anything you see up here, you will find it down there.”

~

            Breakneck led his patron to a curtained doorway near the very back of the building. The door was heavy, and there was a thick data lock keeping it bolted shut. Past it, there were stairs, spiraling down, deeper than any normal cellar might go. Instantly, Megatron was suspicious. “What do you keep down here?” The silver mech asked, cables tensed incase they planned an attack.

            “These are courtesans for those who’s tastes run to the darker side of pleasure.” Breakneck explained over his shoulder as they continued, down and down, “Not many dare venture down here.”

            As he spoke, they passed a door left cracked open. Inside, someone screamed. The cry was followed by a watery moan. Megatron gave the entryway a passing glance and moved on, following his guide deeper. There was something about this place. Something pulled him down into the darkness. Something dim and beckoning called to him.

            The dark painted walls began giving way to bare concrete and exposed beams.

            “You strike me as a mech who would appreciate a smaller partner.” Breakneck said ahead of him, “And I have just the mech in mind. He’s come to us recently, barely legal, actually.”

            Megatron froze where he stood. Is that what this mech thought he was here for? No, he didn’t want this! But still… that nagging feeling in his spark… could this mystery bot be just the one he was looking for? This feeling was driving him more than any rational thought, and he took another step.

            “It would be a shame to keep such a gem hidden from adoring optics.” He prodded, “Why so far down?”

            “He is still in training.” Breakneck said simply, “He is not ready for the parlors.”

            Training? Megatron’s spark went cold as he realized, with terrible suddenness, what the navy mech was talking about. This mystery mech was not here of his own free will. He was a slave, being held and trained and broken. Primus, why was he being drawn ever closer to such cruelty? And the pull was morphing as understanding swept though him. There was fear in it, dread and pain. Something very dark was at the end of this hall.

            The silver mech had no response to Breakneck’s statement, only following as he concentrated on soothing the trendil of fear that tugged at his spark. He was stopped short as they stopped outside a single door, double data locked and barred. There was no sound from within, though it didn’t look soundproofed.

            “This is his room. He is with a client right now, but if you don’t mind a bit of a show, we have permission to enter.” Breakneck said with a smile that was painfully sincere.

            “Whatever you feel would be appropriate.” Megatron said tightly, anxiety rising as the tension in the trendil shot up.

            Breakneck gave him a look, confused, doubtful. “Then let’s head in.” he said, sounding decidedly unsure. He sent a data burst code to both locks and lifted the bar over the door. As it creaked open slowly, Megatron could feel his nerves fraying as he waited.

            For a moment, Megatron was sure he was going to purge. His entire frame locked up for a moment. In horror or fear, he wasn’t sure.

            There was a huge green mech, streaks of black flashed across his frame, light reflecting over his paint as he thrust his hips violently.

            A tiny yellow mech lay beneath him.

            The little mech was gorgeously slender, with baby blue optics and dainty small hands. He made no struggle as he seemed barely conscious and obviously in agony. His optics were dim and half-shuttered. His mouth was open slightly, hard, panting breaths escaping as he was jarred against the concrete floor each time the bigger mech over him surged forward. Shapely thighs were parted obscenely wide as the green mech fucked away, glistening pink mechblood stained both bot’s hips and legs.

            Those beautiful blue optics climbed Megatron’s massive frame, stopping when they met shocked crimson. His lip plates were cracked, Megatron realized as he began to speak.

              _Help… me…_

            The words were a bare breath, inaudible over the green mech’s grunts and the sound of blood slicked rape. But Megatron heard him. Read the words from his coolant stained optics and bleeding mouth.

            The slick noise  _(schlick, schlick)_  was making Megatron sicker and sicker by the second. Those optics were so sad, so brokenly hopeless, he couldn’t take another moment.

            Surging forward himself, Megatron took hold of the green mech by the shoulder and heaved with all his might. Shocked, the offending mech released his victim and was flung across the small room, smashing into the wall with impressive force. He lay there a moment, dazed, his spike still erect and dripping mechblood.

            Megatron was on the smaller mech in an instant, lifting thin shoulders to rest against his arm. Before he could stop himself, he was telling the mech, “It’s going to be okay. I’m here. Everything’s going to be okay.” and petting over his faceplates softly. It hurt him to feel the feverish heat in the small frame, to see grateful peace in hollow blue optics. Furious, Megatron rounded on Breakneck.

            “Is this what you wanted me to see?” He roared, holding the little mech closer when he shivered at the sound, “You would offer me this- this child! As a partner?” Megatron had no pity for the navy mech’s trembling fear. “Go! Get my cloak. I am leaving. And he is coming with me.”

            As  Breakneck opened his mouth to argue, Megatron raised his arm. The sound of high-speed transformation echoed in the small room. His fusion cannon whirred to full charge.

            “Go now. Or I’m taking down this entire building behind me.” Megatron spoke flatly, tone too serious for argument. Breakneck took a few steps back, hands raised defensively, before running up the stairs. The silver mech turned his cannon on the green mech still slumped against the wall. “You too.” Megatron snarled, “Get out.”

            The massive green mech scrambled to his pedes and fled the room without a backwards glance.

            Satisfied, Megatron turned to the little mech in his arms. He was gazing up at Megatron with a strange, barely conscious expression. “You… You wont hurt me, will you?” he asked, and his voice nearly broke Megatron’s spark for  the hundredth time that hour. He had a sweet voice, the bigger mech could tell, but now he spoke in a harsh, rasping tone that hardly conveyed the sound he must have had underneath.

            “Never. I will never hurt you.” Megatron assured softly, stroking slowly over sensory horns.

            “I knew it.” The little mech whispered, “It was you. It was always you.” And he was unconscious in Megatron’s arms. 

**Author's Note:**

> Megatron runs Darkon with his little not-a-bondmate Bumblebee at his side. They collect mecha down on their luck and in need of special handling. What starts as a business ventures becomes their own little family. 
> 
> Their head Dom and most skilled dancer is Jazz, a gorgeous mech from Polyhex with a long history in the business. He doesn't think much of himself, but Prowl, a young enforcer dragged in for a bonding party, thinks the world of him. 
> 
> Bluestreak is a former Dark Energon addict that serves drinks to the clientele, but doesn't take clients himself. He's seen too much during his time in the gutters and the crew takes good care of him when the trauma becomes too much. 
> 
> Sunstreaker and Sideswipe are sparktwins fresh out of the pit and Megatron is the only mech willing to take them in together. Sunstreaker is the barman and bouncer, rough and scowling. Sideswipe is bright and cheerful and dances, taking clients when they strike his taste, sometime sharing with his brother, other times not. 
> 
> Mirage escaped the Towers where the pressure for perfection resulted in a mental breakdown. He takes clients looking for a submissive they can rough up mostly as a form of self punishment. 
> 
> Hound loves him dearly and wishes very much he wouldn't hurt himself so. More of a talker with his clients, Hound is a low born mech willing to follow Mirage wherever he must to keep him safe. 
> 
> Ratchet joins the gang as a former doctor, his licence lost when a patient accused him of misconduct, that now patches up mecha in the pits. He is called to the club when injuries occur, more than Megatron would like and not often enough for the twins. 
> 
> If you're interested, I would be extremely glad to hear it. I have pieces of this 'verse and I want to use it for something.


End file.
